


Radio

by Steggy



Category: Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film), Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Pain, Post-War Peggy, Suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steggy/pseuds/Steggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If only after the war, everyone it claimed came back to life...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio

**Author's Note:**

> bother me on twitter @alyjevans or on tumblr @spangledcap & @poorcap

  
_“I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.”_

  
The bass sent vibrations up through the chair where she sat, drumming her fingers across the bar to the beat, lost in thought, lost in the amber liquid pooled in her glass. Every so often, the trumpets or the sax would rattle her out of her own mind enough for her to take a swig, look at her watch for the millionth time, and impatiently drop the glass back down on the bar.

  
The singer’s voice rang through the club, couples swung and danced about around her, but here she sat. Waiting. Waiting, and as time went on, her hope, her small, wavering faith, dwindled, like a wick, burned down to the core. It was foolish to keep showing up here, knowing fully well that she was there when the line cut out. She knew fully well the chances were more than just slim.

  
A hand cupped her shoulder from behind her, and normally, her instincts would be to press her elbow back into the man, in an uncomfortable place, press until he made noise of protest, and she would hiss multiple threats of what she would do if he did not back off. But the whiskey in her veins kept her rooted to her place, the grief kept her silent, and the music kept her focus occupied.

  
“It’s all over. What are we waiting for?”

  
A sharp realization jolted her from her jumbled mind, recognizing that voice. Remembering the struggle to rouse the soldier from his slump, remembering the pain etched across every inch, every edge, every line of his face, of his entire body.

  
_“Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice,” she murmured, wanting desperately, aching, to reach across the charred table, through the ashes left from the bombings, to cup his chin and press her lips to his in attempts of consoling him. The loss of his friend was to no fault of his own, despite what he had convinced himself._

  
_But still, she couldn’t imagine the screaming agony that ripped through Steve as his best friend’s grip on the edge of the train slipped and the war claimed his life as he plummeted into the abyss. But it wasn’t his fault. Barnes had chosen to follow him. He had chosen it, and he had known the risk. Steve had done his best._  
_His tear streaked face finally lifted into her view, and those icy blues bore into her, hanging on to every word she said. Silence ensued when she’d finished, aside from the distant, fading bomb sirens in the distance._

  
_After several, long, drawing moments, he muttered, “I won’t stop until every one of them is dead.”_

  
Turning, her curls bouncing around her head, Barnes stood in front of her, a smirk pulling across his lips. She blinked, unbelieving, adrenaline swirling in the blood and alcohol, making her dizzy.

  
“James?” Her hand fell over his on her shoulder, surprised to find him tangible, alive, breathing. Whole.

  
“In the flesh, Carter,” James grinned. “No war s’gonna keep me down.”

  
Her painted lips parted, speechless, aching to know how, and she scrambled to her feet, wondering, questioning, hoping that maybe…

  
He couldn’t be. This alone was impossible, this couldn’t be real.

  
But as she was studying Barnes, as her eyes swept over him, finding no translucent parts, clarifying and solidifying his existence here in this moment, that he wasn’t a figment of her grief and a night of drinking alone, a figure moved behind him, nudging Barnes, chuckling softly to himself.

  
No.

  
It wasn’t.

  
He…

  
_“I’ve gotta put her in the water!”_

  
_“Please don't do this. W-we have time. We can work it out.”_

  
_“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice.”_

  
_A beat._

  
_“...Peggy?”_

  
_“I’m here.”_

  
_“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.”_

  
_A choked laugh broke through, a tear sliding down her cheek as she pulled the microphone closer, bringing her last connection to Steve closer, clinging, wishing, hoping to prolong what seemed to be the inevitable. She wasn't ready to say goodbye._

  
_“All right. A week, next Saturday. At the Stork Club.”_

  
_“You got it.”_

  
_“Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?”_

  
_“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”_

  
_The smile on her lips tightened, fingers trembling on the button she held down to keep him with her._

  
_“I’ll show you how,” She whispered, sniffling now, desperate, “Just be there.”_

  
_“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your--”_

  
_“Steve?”_

  
_And just like that. Gone. Radio static. She cursed the machine, banged on the dashboard, wanting the static to break. Wanting the radio to find him, to find his station, to tune to him and never leave him again. But static. Radio static. Gone. Gonegonegonegone._

  
But somehow, not gone. Not gone, but here, breathing, grinning at the back of his best friend’s head before that dazzling smile came into her full view, nearly knocking her back into the bar stool.

  
“I’m sorry I’m late,” He said, nudging Barnes out of the way, who promptly rolled his eyes and muttered something inappropriate.

  
It was as if no time had passed. As if the war was over, and truly, they all got to go home. She was suddenly in his arms. And then they were suddenly on the dance floor, the saxophone cooing through the bar as they swayed, wrapped up in each other, savoring this moment. Her head fit into the cradle of his neck, tears slipping the confines of her eyes at an indescribable rate. His heart drummed beneath his skin. Alive. Here. Alive. Somehow. She wondered, she was in disbelief, but she didn’t care. Her soldier was home, here, in her arms.

  
Steve’s palm moved from the small of her back to cup her hip, and finally, Peggy brought herself to meet his eyes, swimming in their beauty. And there was a different static. A better static than the radio’s. Electric. A pull that drew their lips nearer and nearer, craning towards each other, eager to seal the past into the past and start anew in this life they’ve earned and they deserve. Closer and closer, closing the distance, just brushing, the sparks just beginning to fester and fly…

  
Then it was gone. Panting, sweat rolling down the sides of her face, she sat up in her bed, a sharp, shooting pain racing up her side, feeling new blood from her bullet wound seep through her stitches and soak the bandages. With a groan, the weight of grief crushed her all over again, tears flooding her eyes, remembering, hating herself for remembering, the war had claimed them. Barnes, Steve, they were gone. It was only a dream.

  
A dream that she so badly wished was real. She pressed her hand against the bandages, cringing and wiping at her forehead with her free hand as the sobs lodged in her throat.

  
Nothing was over.

  
She wouldn’t go dancing.

  
She was alone.

  
They were dead.

  
And she was alone.


End file.
